Could
by varietyofwords
Summary: "And for Thanksgiving, I could, would only eat pie. Whatever you want, Case. Because I just want to be with you." CC


**Title:** Could Be

**Fandom:** Greek

**Coupling:** Casey/Cappie

**Words: **1,553

**Rating:** PG-13/T

--

"I could be that guy," he says leaning up against the railing of the porch. He had been surprised to see Casey at a Kappa Tau party but upon further investigation on his part, she was only here because Rusty wanted to cheer her up. Cappie mentally reminded himself that he had to thank Spitter for making her come.

"What guy?" She said while tracing the rim of her beer bottle with her finger.

"I could do it, Case. I could do the whole grown-up, serious act." He exhales, slowly losing the courage to give the speech he's been practicing all summer. It's a lot easier to do this to a mirror than her.

"Cappie, we've been over this. Remember?" Only _every_ time I close my eyes, he thinks while she pauses. "I can't spend the rest of my life protesting protests and eating _pie_. I have plans. _Goals_."

_Keep going._ You have her attention because now she's getting angry, he tells himself.

"I could declare business as my major. I could graduate magna cum _whatever_." She snorts but he still has her attention and as long as he has that, he'll keep going.

"I could wear sweaters over button-up shirts, gel my hair, and wear a blue blazer as I lavaliere, _pin you_ on the ZBZ lawn. I could take you to nice restaurants with French names that really mean 'The duck fucked itself' or something like that."

She's shifting her weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable with be accosted outside of a party. Or maybe it's being accosted by _him_.

"Cappie, please," she whispers. Her voice almost drowned out by the loud music seeping out of the house.

"I could do the 9 to 5 work day and then commute an hour or so to the house in the suburbs with the white picket fence and the swing set out back. Our 2.94 kids could swim in the swimming pool at the country club while I play golf with my boss. I could host barbeques on the weekends, buy a minivan, and stand on the sidelines screaming at the referee."

"Cappie," she says louder this time but he puts his finger to his lips and silences her.

"And for Thanksgiving, I could, would only eat pie. Whatever you want, Case. Because I _just want to be with you_," he tries to smile but the look on her face stops him dead in his tracks.

"And here's the part where we kiss. Remember, freshman year? _Sex, Feminism, and Chick Flicks_?" He still can't believe he let her talk him into this class but then again, freshman year was spent trying to spend _all _of his time with her. Even if that meant some chick class spent watching click flicks.

"No," she spits out.

"No?"

"No. No kissing," she says as she slams the beer bottle onto the railing. The glass breaks into a million little pieces as it hits the wood railing. "Don't you get it, Cappie?"

"What's there to get? I'm willing to change because I want to give you whatever _you_ want!"

"God, Cappie. What I want? I broke up with you because I didn't want you to have to change."

"But I thought…" he stutters out.

"You thought I broke up with you because ZBZ told me to? Yes, Cappie. I did. But I also broke up with you 'cause I didn't want you to change and try to be like them. I wanted you to be the Cappie I fell in love with."

"You want me to be me?" He says, unable to believe her. Years of sleepless nights wondering what he had done wrong and how different it would have been had he had tried harder to pledge at Omega Chi had taken their toll on him.

"I want, I want you to be you. I want you to be who you are. I want you do what you want to do. I want you to live your life, not the life you think I want to have."

"Then what do you want, Casey?"

"I want you to be the childish man I fell I love with. I want you to wear ratty, old t-shirts and a pair of blue jeans. I want you to spend your evenings at Dobler's playing pool and drinking bear. I want you to major in _Sex, Feminism, and Chick Flicks_, if that's what _you_ want. I want you to coach little league or soccer games or, even, ballet.

But what I want most of all, I want you to protest _protest_ and eat pie on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and every day of the week."

"Is that what you want?" He asks her, his voice rising with each word.

"Yes!" She screams back at him.

"And what about what I want?" He asks her, stepping closer to her. The glass crunching under his shoes. "God, Casey. All I want is to be with _you_. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"I know," she whispers.

"You know? Because I don't think you do. All I have ever done was an attempt to get you back."

"All you have done? What about Rebecca Logan?"

"Rebecca? Rebecca could never compete with you because I have put you on such a high, fucking impermeable pedestal that she could never come close," he tells her through gritted teeth.

Her response was a simple roll of the eyes.

"Fuck, Case. Don't you remember that night that you came to the Kappa Tau party? You were wearing that red dress and you wanted to talk about Rusty and his virginity or what not? The moment I saw you, I dumped Heather or Stacy or whatever her name was on to the ground. You're on a pedestal, Casey."

"I never asked you to put me on one," she yelled back at him.

"That's what happens when you're in love with someone. You put her on a pedestal and for the rest of your life; no one comes close in comparison."

"Really?"

"Yes, and that's why I know somewhere deep down you are _still_ in love with me," he sputters out.

"No," she states.

"Really? No?"

"Yes. No, I mean, I'm in love with Evan."

"Evan? You mean the bastard who cheated on you? Funny how the "better guy" is the one who cheats."

"Cappie," she starts.

"No, Case. Don't you see? I'm the better guy. I've been the better guy since day _one_. And it kills me, kills me that you don't see that. So, here's my ultimatum. I'm giving you the weekend to decide what's its going to me. Him or me?" He states plainly for her.

"But Casey, I want you to know something. That pedestal? It makes it so that I can't even look at another woman without feeling like I'm stabbing you in the back. It makes me sick to even think about it," he says as he backs into the house. With a slam of the door, he's absorbed back into the crowd, leaving her alone on the porch with a passed out Beaver.

--

It seems like every minute he checks his cell phone for a phone call from her, expecting that at any moment his cell will ring or will beep with a text message.

_Anything_, as long as it's from her.

But nothing comes and as the sun sets on Sunday, he _needs _to get out of the house. A walk might do the trip, but he promises himself that he will not walk down Greek Row and he will not go by the ZBZ house.

"Beer's here!" He can hear Beaver yell as he walks out the door, letting it slam behind him.

--

By the time he comes back, the sun has set and he knows that it's _over_.

It's _so_ over between the two of them. And with a heavy heart, he crosses the street and starts up the stairs of the Kappa Tau house.

The rest of the guys are watching The Forty-Year-Old Virgin through a drunken haze. A few of them already passed out amongst the common room with Rusty the _only_ one not drunk and the _only_ one studying.

"Hey, Cappie," Rusty starts to tell him as he ascends the staircase. "There…"

"Later, Spitter, 'kay?" He says he reaches the top the stairs. Knowing that the minute he goes to bed it will be completely over, he pushes open the door with a sigh.

There, perched on top of the bed is Casey holding a pink box and chewing on the end of her fork.

"So I kinda ate all the blueberry chocolate pie," she says.

"Blueberry chocolate, huh?"

"Well, I was trying to remember if we had it before but I couldn't."

"No, I don't think that we have," he says leaning against the door jam, his hand still wrapped around the doorknob.

"I guess that makes blueberry chocolate the official make-up pie, huh?"

"Does that mean your staying?"

"Uh huh," she says nodding her head. With one fell swoop, he crosses the room and all of the sudden, his lips on hers.

Gasping for air, she pulls away and for second he's afraid that he was _only_ dreaming.

"One condition," she whispers.

"Anything."

"No more 'could be's," she says before kissing him again.


End file.
